


Eternal Dawn

by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa- (strangeandintoxicating)



Series: Eternal Road Trip [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Depression, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Mental Illness, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Spoilers, This makes it sound like a sad story but believe me it is a happy story, Violence, massive spoilers, mentions of suicidal thoughts (briefly), monster hunting, this is a healing story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10069637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeandintoxicating/pseuds/Strange%20and%20Intoxicating%20-rsa-
Summary: Sequel to "Too Much is Never Enough."The Eternal Dawn brings with it adventures and joy, and Noctis is ready to live like he never got to live before.Gladio/Ignis/Prompto/Noctis (massive spoilers)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal Dawn
> 
> By: Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-
> 
> Author Notes: Thank you guys so much for loving "Too Much is Never Enough." I wanted to make sure that the story about the Eternal Roadtrip didn't end. So many of you guys have told me that you loved "Too Much" and wanted to see more of that world, and I wanted there to be more of it, too.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for supporting me and my stories. I love you guys.
> 
> If you are new to this story, I highly recommend reading "Too Much is Never Enough" before continuing, because it will not make a lot of sense to you otherwise.
> 
> Warning: SPOILERS, Sex, mentions of mental illness and PTSD, some violence and blood (they're going to fight monsters because of course the Beyond wouldn't be fun without some monster fighting.) This is going to be a lot of healing; emotional porn... and also the physical porn.

Chapter One: The Beyond **  
**

"Iggy."

Noctis rested his head against his lover's chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was a sound that he had almost forgotten, their last night seemingly so far away and yet right there on the edges of his memories. It had been him and Iggy, then Gladio, then Prompto… and Noctis had never once regretted that. He had known that he needed to follow his heart, that there would be no hiding who he was—at least to himself. And so he had embraced each of them, and then lost them when he accepted his destiny.

Death had been painful, but the eternal dawn had been beautiful. Solemn, lonely, but beautiful.

Yet when they returned to him into the Beyond it had been the holes inside him filling, and listening to Ignis's heart against his ear whispered to him of what the future would hold. They could do whatever they wanted, be whoever they wanted.

This was his eternal gift. He was allowed to be _happy_.

Yet…

"Yes, Love?" Ignis whispered against his hair, and Noctis was careful to turn his body away from Prompto, feeling the blond shift in his sleep. Gladio on the other side of Prompto let out a grunt and then twisted his arm around Noctis and Prompto yet again.

"I still don't know if this is real or fantasy…" It was like his father's sword piercing into the soft flesh of his belly. Even admitting the words took the breath from his lungs. Ignis was not much better; his heart seemed to skip a beat and then he felt Ignis's hands rest themselves in his hair.

The tent had been their home for all that time through Lucis, before things had gone to hell and back. Yet, even with the expansions of time and the magic of the Beyond it still felt the same.

It was so perfect, like a never-ending dream.

It was like the Crystal.

"Why do you think so?"

Noctis looked up through the darkness, barely able to make out Ignis's eyes. They were perfect, unscarred and unmarred by the damage of Altissia. He couldn't look at them without remembering when he woke to find Luna was dead and Ignis blind, Gladio furious and Prompto so lethargic. Like pieces of dust from a shattered glass that was too small to put the pieces back together, Noctis could remember each feather-stroke of his scars.

He reached up to touch the skin; he wanted to remember what the scars felt like and yet wanted nothing more than to never feel them again.

"When I was in the Crystal… it gave me the chance to relive our moments. Yet I was real, and you were all just… memories. It… It was messed up, Iggy. It wasn't you, not the real you."

Ignis let his hand trace down to Noctis's cheek, cupping it in his palm. "If it were even a shadow of myself, I can assure you that I loved you no matter what you may believe."

Noctis sighed and tried to pull away from Ignis, but Ignis refused to let go. "Please, Noct. Let me finish." The chamberlain let the pad of his thumb run over the corner of Noctis's mouth, barely touching against his lips. It reminded Noctis of stolen kisses in the Citadel when they were nothing but teenagers trying to learn the feeling of heat on skin and what passion meant. Such innocence, reaching out blindly for what would bring comfort.

Ignis was always that, like a blanket he had long ago wrapped around his shoulders. Noctis could be hidden in the comfort of the known, of the promises Ignis had sworn to him when the biggest worry had been skinned knees and busted lips.

He loved Gladio and Prompto, always would, but each of their loves were different.

Ignis would always be his first love. Even before he knew what love was, Ignis had been with him. Ignis would always be with him…

Or, Noctis had _dreamed_ it that way.

"I have always loved you, and I always will love you. Even if I were to forget myself, I could never dare to forget you."

"Iggy, did I make you come here?" It was a question he had wondered about. Gladio and Prompto… when he had tried to ask Prompto about it when the man first arrived, Prompto just grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him until it was hard for Noctis to remember what they were talking about. He tried to bring it up with Gladio, but his Shield told him that he would always be with Noctis, that it was his job. He had smiled, his brown eyes so bright that it had taken away his breath, and mentioned that Noct was bound to get himself into trouble if Gladio wasn't there.

Neither of them had answered, though. Not like he knew Ignis would answer. Even if it hurt, Ignis would never lie to him.

Ignis's hand stopped. "Do you think that we would be here with you if we didn't want to be, Noct?"

"I don't know. Did I?" In the Crystal, he could make whatever he wanted come, he could make them do whatever he wanted. Bahamut had called it a _simple comfort_ , something Noctis needed to understand so that when it was gone he would be able to remember those moments to draw strength from them.

It hadn't worked; when he was on the dais as his ancestors pierced him again and again it wasn't the false memories in the Crystal he had drawn from. No, it was when they had first started their travels—when the Regalia had died on the road to Hammerhead, the dinners Ignis would cook, the funny pictures Prompto would take, the training he and Gladio would do before they all fell into a heap inside the tent. He could remember the way they would make love under the stars, how there was nothing that could have taken them away.

And then it was the silence, the waiting and hope that they would one day find him. And then they were there. One by one, they had returned to him.

But Noctis wasn't sure if they were figments of his imagination… Or, if not… Had he taken them from their own Beyond? Had he forced them into his idea of what would be the perfect eternity?

The first question was easier than the last. There were things that they said, that they did, that seemed so different than the magic from the Crystal. It always seemed just a little off inside the Crystal. Comfort or not, Noctis knew that those were just shadows of his lovers.

This seemed **real** ; it was in their quirks, in their willingness to butt heads and cause fights. It was in the way Prompto would complain about his shoes getting water in them or how Gladio would sometimes hit just a little too hard during their training. It would leave him bruised and sore—just a little. Just enough that it reminded Noctis of being alive.

Now, with Ignis… it was in the way that Ignis looked at him.

Not even Noctis could make Ignis look at him like that; it was the way a man who had been blind for decades would drink in everything around him. It was truth, and it _sung_ to him.

"Noct, if I did not want to be here then I would not be here. I don't believe the Beyond would force us into another's Beyond, but more so than that... the only place I have wanted to be since you departed was to be by your side. We all felt that way, of that I assure you." Ignis's voice was so clear and cool it felt like Noctis could drown in it.

"I shouldn't need you to make me feel better."

Ignis pulled him closer and tucked Noctis's head under his chin. Noctis was careful to rest his hands on Ignis's chest, letting his fingers flutter across the other man's skin.

"There is nothing I would rather do than bring you comfort, Noct. Just by being here with you… you can't comprehend the…" Ignis trailed off, leaning down to pepper Noctis's scalp with kisses. He could feel Ignis breathing against his skin and it felt right. "It's hard to put into proper words, but I assure you there is nothing that could keep me from you. Do not doubt me, Love."

Noctis didn't want to, but the stinging rawness of Ignis's words reminded him that while Noctis had died, Ignis had lived. Ignis had lived far longer than him... longer than Gladio, than Prompto.

"Tell me more about it, about home," Noctis asked after a moment, his words but a whisper against Ignis's chest.

The man chuckled and rested his hands, letting them slide down to Noctis's side. "Of course, anything you'd like to hear."

* * *

In the morning, Noctis found himself wrapped in two sets of arms. For a moment panic set into his stomach when he opened his eyes. Had he been so desperate for Ignis's that he had dreamed of the man? He could only feel Prompto and Gladio…

 _Wait_.

Noctis turned around, seeing the soft brown hair he had thought was the memory of a time so long ago. Ignis was asleep, his face relaxed in a way that was difficult for the man to reach during the waking hours. So peaceful and content…

Noctis couldn't help but to swallow loudly. He felt the body behind him snuggle closer.

"He looks good like that," Prompto whispered against the back of Noctis's neck. He yawned and tugged a little at Noctis's waist. "Super peaceful, like a baby."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Noctis warned, but it was the truth.

Prompto chuckled ever so slightly and Noctis could feel the man's breath blow at the hairs at the base of his skull. "Think he'd kill me? Pretty sure him and the big guy would string me up."

Noctis took in Ignis for another moment before adjusting his position and turning just the slightest. He could see Prompto behind him in the corner of his eye; his blond hair was a mess and his eyes were crusted a bit from sleep.

"Yeah, he'd kill you."

Prompto lifted up his arm and then dropped it, causing Noctis to let go of the air in his lungs with a small wheeze and a laugh.

Ignis didn't stir.

"Man, I thought Iggy was a light sleeper."

Noctis made himself comfortable again against Prompto. "He used to be a really heavy sleeper when we were kids." Ignis used to be able to sleep through nearly anything other than Noctis crying. That would wake him up in moments. "Could probably sleep through a bomb going off."

"Let's not drop a bomb, 'kay?" Prompto nuzzled closer and Noctis smiled as he felt a little nip at his neck.

"Hmm."

Noctis shifted onto his back as he felt Prompto's hand slide down his stomach and toward his underwear. He allowed his eyelids to flutter closed as he felt the warmth of Prompto's hands on him. The blond ran his fingers over the trail of dark hair from his belly button down, lightly teasing the pads of his thumbs against the elastic—

"Time for breakfast, you can jerk him off later."

Noctis snapped his eyes open to see Gladio standing above him, the light of the dawn dusting across his cheek. He smiled down at them and showed off a plate of something (what it was was Noctis could only guess… there were reasons why Ignis had been their main cook) and wolf-whistled so loudly that Ignis seemed to jump out of his skin as he woke.

_Shit._

It clearly wasn't the thing to do, as Ignis gasped and summoned his daggers. He pushed himself away from the others, into the corner of the tent. A few things from the nearby stand crashed, the sound only making Ignis even more panicked. His eyes were blinking rapidly as his breath coming out in labored, pained gasps. Even his glasses, the ones that had been stolen by that damned black chocobo once upon a time, fell uselessly at his feet.

Noctis tried to jump up but Prompto caught him and pulled him down, not letting him go to Ignis… Even though Prompto clearly wanted to do the same.

"Shit, Iggy," Gladio whispered, gobsmacked. "I… I didn't... "

Ignis's lips parted as he tried to steady his breath, though Noctis could see the terror only fading as Ignis's eyes adjusted to sight. How long… how long had he been alive without his sight? How many years had passed between Noctis's death and Ignis? What had happened between that time? The night before Ignis had told him only bits and pieces: Rebuilding Insomnia, the Gardens for Lady Lunafreya, Iris's political win, her plans for the future of Lucis... And yet Noctis had been hesitant to ask about his death or the pain, because that was something that he knew from experience wasn't what anyone wanted to be pushed into.

"My… my…" Ignis's voice shuddered as he spoke. He tried to formulate words that were clearly stuck inside his throat, but couldn't get them out.

It reminded Noctis of a time when things had been simpler and the only thing he had been worried about was when Ignis was accidentally turned into a frog. Yet at that time Ignis's lack of speech has been nothing but hilarious; this was anything but.

Noctis squirmed against Prompto until the man let go, and Noctis slowly walked forward on his knees, hands out before him. He was slow to reach for the glasses near Ignis's feet, then equally and deliberately slow as he brought them up.

"Your glasses," Noctis whispered, though it was hard to keep the sound of his heart shattering from his voice. He did his best, but he cracked on the intonation.

Ignis swallowed and was careful to accept them. It reminded Noctis of a stray dog that used to live near the East wall of the Citadel. It had been kicked too many times to be anything but wary.

"My... apologies."

Noctis shook his head.

"Hey, guys. Give me and Iggy a second?"

Noctis turned to Gladio and nodded. The vestiges of sleep were long gone. He didn't even want to crawl back into bed.

"Yeah. Just… yeah."

Prompto took the congealed mess from Gladio and Noctis was careful in backing away from Ignis, switching places with the Shield. He hoped that Gladio would be able to do something more.

Noctis didn't look away from Iggy until he had completely exited the tent and felt Prompto wrap his arms around his waist.

"What the hell was that?"

Prompto rested his forehead on Noctis's shoulder, gently kissing the back of his t-shirt. "He got like that sometimes. After, um, well… when you went into the Crystal."

Noctis swallowed. "And you guys... "

Prompto dug his chin gently into the curve of Noctis's collarbone. "We did the best we could. We did our best, but if anyone brought it up he would close himself off and then leave. The fastest way to make him disappear for a couple weeks was to bring it up and make him uncomfortable."

He could see it; the three of them trying so hard to be together but everything being too much. It was the weight of a behemoth on his chest, to know that during the World of Ruin as he slept away a decade that they had been fighting against that daemon.

"Iggy likes to pretend he's level-headed, but he can be just as bad as us."

"Worse," Prompto admitted. "It got worse after—" Prompto cut himself off.

"It's okay to say it, Prom."

Prompto swallowed so hard it made even Noctis's throat hurt.

"After you, um… after you died."

Noctis squeezed his eyes shut.

"We all were a mess, but Iggy took it the worst. It was touch and go for a while. We kinda…. Well, we didn't think that I was gunna be the first one to come and find you."

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Prompto pulled him tighter. "Gladio probably feels like an asshole right now. Big noises and all that. But he's good at getting Ignis to calm down after a bad morning."

Noctis opened his eyes to look back at the tent, wishing that he could go back inside and yet understanding that he wasn't what Ignis or Gladio needed at that moment.

"I guess… I guess we should try to eat what Gladio made."

Prompto snorted. "Aw, man. Please don't make me eat that. I think it's _moving_."

So, the two of them opted instead to crack open a few energy bars and set up the coffee, the smell of Ebony covering up the burning tire smell of whatever Gladio had set aside for them to eat. Noctis thought about tossing it out but after reaching toward the bucket only for whatever was inside to bubble threateningly at him in response, well. It was best to leave that for Gladio.

He wasn't sure how long it took for Gladio and Ignis to finish their conversation, but it was long enough that Prompto stretched out his arms and declared that it was time for lunch.

One of Ignis's perfectly trimmed eyebrows rose. He had calmed himself, the terror from that morning faded from his face. He still looked a little paler than Noctis was comfortable with, but they could bring a bit of life back into them over the course of the day. "Oh? And in all this time you didn't think to perhaps try cooking something yourselves?"

"Gladio tried." Noctis held out the small mug of steaming coffee to Ignis, who took it with a quirk of his lips.

" _Ah_. Everything seems so much clearer now."

Gladio didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. "Hey, if you don't like it then you don't gotta eat it." Noctis caught Gladio's eye and saw the slight tilt of his lover's chin toward Ignis. Noctis nodded. They would talk about it later.

"It doesn't mean much when it tries to bite off your finger," Prompto joked as he pointed Ignis toward the pot of offensive food.

"Gladio, from now on it's best if you stuck with grilling."

"But only dead things! Very dead things!"

Noctis laughed at the confused face Ignis gave him as Gladio groaned good-naturedly.

"Oh, Six, what did he try to do?"

Prompto's cackle was enough for Ignis to tip his head back and down his entire coffee in one shot.

And so the four settled into what had been so common of a task so many years before. The weight of the passage of time seemed a distant thought as Noctis filled in Ignis on the infamously dubbed "Slow-Roasting a Live Behemoth with a Fire Spell" incident while he directed Prompto to cutting up vegetables and Gladio to getting rid of the toxic sludge e had tried to pass off as breakfast.

Noctis knew that it would take time, but in that moment as Ignis stirred something into his boiling pot of soup while Prompto and Gladio wrestled on the campground floor reenacting the infamous battle, he felt a peace overcome him. He sat himself down in one of the chairs next to where Ignis busied himself with cooking.

It was something he never expected to get. All three of them had come back to him. Maybe they weren't exactly as they had once been, but Noctis knew that they had a future that was boundless and vast. They could be themselves, could continue on into the promise of the Beyond.

Gladio looked to Noctis at that moment and threw an arm over his shoulder, and Noctis couldn't help but laugh as the man pulled him up from the chair and used him as a prop within their tale.

He could get used to this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your patience! I am happy that the reception for this story has been so great!

The first few days were nothing but playing catch-up in a world that was so familiar and yet, Noctis knew, was truly nothing like what the real world was like. It was somewhere between fantasy and reality, where the two clustered together in what Noctis could only consider the perfect home. 

Ignis had, on more than one occasion, taken a moment to himself. He said that part of it was his eyes; his vision had never returned, and after spending so many years without light it had become somewhat of a burden upon his sight returning. The light was a bit of a headache, the brunet had laughed as he blinked behind his spectacles. It made Noctis's heart ache in his chest. 

Hearing that, knowing that Ignis had spent more of his life alive without his sight than with, had made all of the air exit from Noctis's body. Ignis had suffered in ways that Noctis could never be able to understand. It was in the way Ignis moved, in the way he sometimes closed his eyes when he was cooking or when they walked through the greenery around the haven, that showed he had long ago grown accustomed to the dark. 

Noctis still didn't know how the blindness had occurred in the first place. When they were alive, before he had been taken by the crystal, it had been too soon. The wounds were too tender, too raw, still gaping and oozing in every way. After the crystal... there hadn't been time. Only a few days to cling to one another and pray for the sun. It hadn't been the right time, to bring up the pain when all he needed was their comfort. He needed those moments to cling to as he fought for the dawn. 

He had asked Prompto and Gladio about it in the time they had arrived in the Beyond, but every time they only looked to him and told him it wasn't their place, it wasn't their right. It was Ignis's story to tell, and when Ignis came to them Noctis could ask him himself.

But now that Ignis was with him, that he could feel Ignis's breath against his cheek and his hands around his waist, Noctis never wanted to think of what had happened before again. Of course the thought niggled in the back of his mind and he knew that one day they would talk about it, just as they needed to talk of a million different things that life had thrown at them, but...

For now, it was best to allow Ignis to open up on his own.

It was clear that Ignis had changed in the years after Noctis's death, but when he looked at Noctis everything felt the same. It didn't matter that years had passed, that time itself had warped and altered them in unspoken ways. What mattered was they were all together and could come up with an eternity that they could enjoy, that they had long ago earned.

And yet taking that step into the Beyond was only the beginning, because... 

"I think... I think we should try to go back to Insomnia."

Noctis looked up at Prompto, who was the closest to him. They were sitting outside the haven, the table they had set up for breakfast sagging from the weight of the fresh omelets and juice Ignis and Prompto had prepared for them. Prompto had his plate on the table, his fork shoved in his mouth as he held a ketchup bottle with both hands. The look of absolute concentration broke with the fork falling from his mouth.

"Noct, you sure?" Prompto put the ketchup bottle back down on the table with a heavy clunk.

Gladio leaned over and picked up the fork from the ground. "Here," he said to Prompto as he put it back in his mouth. "And you heard him. I've been thinking about it, too You know.... going back. Seeing what's there. What's left."

In the time that had passed, they had come to terms with many things. What if it was that this Beyond was their own Beyond, that those they loved were not truly there? They had skirted around the large cities, avoided going any further than they really needed to go by foot, but the thought had occurred to them. Just as they had fought against the fear that they themselves were just a fantasy within their own minds, so had they fought against the idea that nothing was real. Nothing was actually there. 

Noctis looked to Ignis, who was still busying himself with making breakfast. His mouth, however, was drawn down into a nearly indecipherable frown.

"Ignis, what do you think?"

For Ignis, it had only been a few days since he had last been in Insomnia—the real Insomnia that was ruled no longer by a monarchy chained to a Crystal. The people were free, able to choose their own destinies and their own futures. It was different. It was the Insomnia of the future, so would this be the Insomnia of the past?

This Insomnia... If there were one hundred and thirteen kings before, who would be the true ruler? 

The thought had bothered Noctis on more than one occasion over the years. He knew that there were no wars, there there was no hunger or fear, and yet there were still beasts and daemons to fight. Was it wishful thinking that had brought them? And, of course, what of Ardyn?

Thinking about Ardyn send a shiver of disgust through Noctis's stomach. There was pity for what the man had once been, for what he had become, but even then... what he had done to Insomnia, what he had done to Luna—

Noctis cut himself off. It was hard to think of Luna, even now. After all the time that had passed, all of his sacrifice and loss, thinking of his childhood friend left him with an awful feeling within his stomach. It wasn't fair to her, perhaps. She had been led forward by the Gods into a choice he knew was not easy to make. And yet, even then, Noctis never got to speak with her. He never got to apologize for leaving her all those years ago in Tenebrae, how he hadn't been strong enough to run on his own. If he had been stronger, if his legs had been better, if he hadn't been so weak, then things would have been different. 

It was something that haunted Noctis in his nightmares, just as watching Luna fade into the waters left him feeling cold and alone. 

Yet Noctis didn't have any idea what he could possibly say to her after an apology for omething he could not control. He had thought about it, staring up at the inside of the tent with Prompto curled up next to him and Gladio's feet twined with his. He had dreamed of what it would be like to see her again, to say how sorry he was, and then to say how angry he was... 

How had she never told him of his fate? Logically, in the part of Noctis that Bahamut had used to pull him to pieces and then paste him back together within the Crystal, he could understand her desire to keep it from him. He was young, he was already dealing with the knowledge that one day he would die under the weight of his own crown. And she had been young, too. She had been manipulated and bent to the will of the Gods, too.

But it had been years inside of that Crystal with only false memories and twisted words, a life that could have been, should have been, that never was. Bahamut had used those pictures of a life that had been idealistic and perfect. He had wanted to die there and at the same time he had wanted to desperately fight against it because he had known it wasn't real. He had known that the world of the Crystal had been a lie. 

Yet it had taken time to realize that. In a never-ending loop with only himself truly existing, Noctis had shattered over and over again. She should have told him of his future, should have prepared him for his duty. It would have hurt—Gods knew it would have ached in ways that no words would have ever explained with such depth and clarity, but it would have been better than going through it by himself.

Luna should have told him. His father... his father should have prepared him. 

But the bitterness had long ago faded and in its place was the need to ask them why, to hear it from their own mouths. He wanted peace, and though it had taken him a long time to come to terms with it, Noctis knew that the only way forward was to let go of the past. And now that Ignis was with them, now that the last piece of their puzzle had slotted back into place, it felt right.

But...

"Iggy, we don't have to go back yet. If you aren't ready, we understand. We can wait."

Ignis tapped the spatula on the frying pan for a moment before resting it on the side. "Noct. I.... I am not opposed to going to Insomnia. If that is what you want."

"But what do  _ you _ want, Ignis?" Gladio asked.

Ignis wiped his hands on the apron before picking the spatula up again. "I— I am content wherever you are."

"Maybe we should wait."

"No, Prompto. Please, that is not what I wish for at all. This is still very new. I may not have adjusted fully to being here, but I have had far longer to come to terms with things in my own way. Closure is important, is it not?"

But Ignis hadn't come to terms with things in his own way, that much Noctis was certain. That first morning still rang clear in Noct's memory; the terror in Ignis's eyes, the way he had scrambled away from Noctis, the size of his blown pupils, the shake to his hands as he summoned his daggers. 

Closure. Acceptance.

Moving forward.

"But it doesn't have to be today," Noctis said as Prompto reclaimed his plate. 

Ignis continued to cook his own omelet in silence for a moment before finally speaking again. "There is no better day than today. You mentioned the Regalia was nearby. I haven't driven in, oh..." Ignis stopped, putting his hand on his hip as he tapped the spatula against the metal pan. "It has been... a very long time."

Noctis shared a look with Gladio, but no one said anything. It wasn't their place to ask until Ignis was ready to tell.

"Either way, it would be a pleasure to get to sit behind the driver's seat again." Ignis swallowed loudly as he scooped his steaming egg onto his own plate, making sure to turn off the heat as he finished. 

"Oh man, I nearly forgot how much you loved that car," Gladio said as he dug into the side of behemoth bacon. "You and King Regis probably loved that old girl more than anyone else on Eos."

"I was rather surprised to hear that the car had not been returned to its original owner. I would have expected it to have gone back to your father. It was his car, after all."

Noctis remembered the joy when he first found the Regalia in all of her splendor. She had glistened like she had after a good waxing and servicing from Cindy way back when things had been so much simpler. Sitting inside her, the air conditioner blowing through his hair and the feeling of soft leather under him had reminded Noctis of when things had been  _ good _ . It hadn't been perfect, not in any way, but it had been good.  _ They _ had been good.

And for everything that the Regalia was, it would always be home. Perhaps that was why he still had her, why the Beyond had allowed her to stay with him? 

There was no way to be certain, at least not until they returned to Insomnia. Not until he saw his father...

"I guess we'll just have to ask him when we see him." Noctis looked down at his breakfast, suddenly no longer hungry. 

His father.

The same way thinking of Luna made it hard to breathe, thinking of his father made everything ache. He wanted to see his father, to speak with him, to hear the words he never heard in life spoken back to him. Noctis hadn't even realized when he had arrived that there were others in the Beyond, only figuring it out after Prompto and Gladio arrived. If he had known sooner, Noctis was pretty sure that he would have gone to find his father himself.

But after Prompto and Gladio, the thought of leaving without Ignis was impossible.

So they had waited and Noctis tried to put all the feelings back into place, to slide them into a more clear-cut box of his own emotions. Noctis loved his father, but the cold brush of steel through the belly.... He wondered sometimes whether or not it had really been the ghost of his father who had dealt the killing blow. How had he felt? Had he been proud of Noctis for being brave? 

He hoped that his father had been proud of him. Even without a choice, even guided by the Gods to an end that he had never wanted, Noctis had walked tall.

"You okay, Princess?" 

Noct picked up his fork and ran it through the stringy cheese and egg on his plate, watching the oil soak into the paper below. "Yeah, Gladio. It's fine. Just... thinking." 

"Don't think too hard," Prompto joked, but Noctis had spent enough time with Prompto to hear the hint just behind the words, an unspoken collection of jumbled thoughts and nerves and pain.  

_ Don't worry. Things will be okay. Don't think about it. We've got you. _

"Yeah, thanks Prom."

"I think that it would be a good idea to head out after washing up. We should be able to arrive in Insomnia before nightfall." 

Noctis remembered the first time they had left Insomnia like it was yesterday. The fear in them, the way Prompto had raked his hands through his hair until it stuck up in every which way as the rain slipped from the clouds above. It had been funny, at first, that Prompto was scared that the water itself would be poisonous. It was the freshest thing that Noctis had ever smelled and that alone had terrified him. 

That moment as the Wall dropped at the gateway, as they slowly passed between their world and the world of the outside and the teeming and sprawling vastness of Lucis—that moment had stayed with him even after all of the time that had gone by. 

Going back...

Noctis looked away from Ignis and over the side of the haven, out into the brilliant greenery that surrounded Killiam haven. To the north he could see the faintest outline of the Nebulawood and to the south was the ever-inviting trill of the Chocobos and the sprawling Malacchi hills. In the decades since arriving in the Beyond, a sense of homesickness curled inside of Noctis's stomach that he knew would not fade. Pondering on those moments, of his father and Luna and the time that had gone by, had always led to him thinking more and more about what would come after Ignis returned. 

And now that Ignis was there, was with them again, Noctis knew that the future called to him and it needed an answer.

 "Yeah, Iggy. Let's do it. Let's... let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be Insomnia! We'll get a tearful reunion.


	3. Chapter 3

She was just as beautiful now as she had been so long ago. It was something in the black paint, in the way she shimmered and shined in the morning light despite Noctis now knowing how long it had been since he had washed her. There wasn't even a touch of dirt on her tires, and that spoke more to the current situation than Noctis could really explain. 

She was waiting there for him, the same way she had the day they had all left Insomnia. The shine of her windows and the luster of the car never faded. 

And yet it wasn't Noctis who was the first to touch her, to run his fingers against the hood. 

"My... she is a sight for sore eyes," Ignis remarked, his leather gloves ghosting against the metal exterior.

"Yeah. Definitely is." Noctis held out the keys to Ignis, making sure to not stare at the man. He knew that everything was still fresh, and he was not going to be the one who mentioned the wetness to Ignis's eyes. No one would. Not about this, not about anything.

He deserved that much respect.

"She's as pretty as the first time I saw her," Gladio said as he wistfully slid into the backseat of the car, Prompto getting into his position in the front. "Still remember it like it were yesterday."

"How old were you again?"

Gladio hummed for a moment before leaning over and opening Noctis's door. "Gotta be like... thirty years? I was like.... what, Noct? Ten?"

Noctis slid into the seat next to Gladio, feeling the warm, supple leather under his fingers. "Sounds about right. Dad wanted to talk to you about something."

Gladio chuckled. "Yeah, I remember. Wanted to tell me how important being the Shield was. About my duties." There was a bitterness to his voice that Noctis immediately recognized, and he found his hand slipping into Gladio's, pulling it to his side.

"Sorry."

Gladio shook his head. "Don't worry 'bout it. You didn't know."

The words hid more. None of them had known.

It was like walking on eggshells, the words that didn't come freely and the worries that Noctis knew each of them carried lingered in the air. But it didn't mean that it hurt any less.

"Well, did he let you drive it?" Prompto cut in as he turned, making sure to sling his arms around the headrest.

Ignis grabbed him by the back of his shirt to pull him around.

"Hey, hey! Fine, I'll move Iggy. But only for you."

"Your lack of understanding of basic safety is absolutely appalling."

Prompto smacked his lips together. "Iggy. Uh. Hello? We're already kinda dead. Can't die again."

Noctis snorted. Of course it was Prompto who knew better than anyone else. 

"Seriously, did Prompto get to tell you how he got smacked half back to life by a treant?"

"Ay! You said you'd never tell anyone! You swore—"

"You were the moron who pulled out a pistol on an angry swinging tree, Prom.... when you had a damn flamethrower," Gladio deadpanned. 

"I... I was just waiting for the right time!" 

"And I've got it memorialized on film," Noctis laughed, but he was careful to make sure to turn to look at Ignis.

Ignis didn't understand a lot of what the afterlife was like, but Noctis wasn't going to leave him in the dark. Never again.

"We can't die. It'll hurt, and Prompto'll probably cry for a while—"

"Hey—"

"But we come back perfectly fine. Perfectly whole."

Ignis didn't smile. "... Nevertheless, it would be best to not tempt fate. I would prefer it if you wore your seatbelt either way."

Prompto didn't even try to stop Ignis from reaching around to pull the buckle around his waist.

"Of course, Iggy."

Ignis paused until Noctis and Gladio snapped their seatbelts into place, before putting his own on. There was weight, something heavy and unspoken, that passed between them before Ignis slowly slipped the key into the ignition.

She came to life with a purr, the ever loyal and trustworthy Regalia.

And the Ignis looked up through the rearview mirror, Noctis did his best to smile, though he knew it probably came out looking more like a grimace.

After a moment of hesitation on Ignis's part, he slowly turned the steering wheel and pressed his foot on the gas, bringing the car to a soft lull.

It didn't take long for Ignis to turn around the Regalia in the middle of the road and for his leather gloves to make creaking noises against the wheel. He wondered if Ignis knew just how tight his fingers were, how tightly he must have gripped the steering wheel, how white his face looked.

But Ignis was right; it had been years since the last time he had been behind the wheel, and though it took a moment of silence for Ignis to figure out exactly what he was doing, to regain his footing, once he did.... it felt like home again, just like it had all those years before. Ignis behind the wheel, Prompto next to him as he fiddled with the car radio, Gladio next to Noctis as he reached down to the little bit of space between Prompto's seat and the chair. He made a sound of triumph as he pulled out a well-worn book.... One of those horrible bodice rippers Noctis had made fun of him for a thousand times over. 

But now.... It was better to pull at his seatbelt until it was more comfortable before sliding over, closer to Gladio's warmth.

Gladio raised an eyebrow, but picked up his arm and threw it around Noctis's shoulder. Noctis brought his head down to comfortably rest against Gladio's chest. The warmth of his skin made Noctis's face tingle, but even more appreciated was the hand that found its way to the nape of his neck. Gladio's strong fingers gently ran through the hair there, letting his fingers tickle against the sensitive skin there as he opened the book to the first page.

Noctis wanted to stay awake, to allow himself to read along with whatever book had so captured Gladio, but the steady rhythm of the radio and the purr of the engine, mixed with the smell of Duscae and the heat of Gladio's slowly-moving chest was impossible to ignore. And Noctis, who loved few things more than naps, found himself slowly drifting off to sleep surrounded by the things that had brought him the greatest comfort in his life.... and in his death. 

* * *

 

Noctis couldn't say for certain how long they traveled for, but he knew that he was near Insomnia the moment he felt the soft magic that was the Wall.

By all accounts it shouldn't have been there; the Wall had fallen, and so had the city. But when Noctis blinked up at the ever-imposing Wall, he could see it glistening in the mid-afternoon sunlight. It was pink, moving like waves against the sky. But when they crossed it, there was not the tell-tale feeling of the protective magic. No.... it was nothing but a tingling breeze.

"I think it's for show?" Prompto murmured as he adjusted his seat, leaning back a little. "It looks the same, but.... it feels weird?"

"Yeah... weird." That was one way to put it.

"I guess if all these people don't know they're dead, then.... yeah. It makes sense."

Noctis looked back into the rearview window. Ignis looked back.

"Iggy, what do you think?" 

"I think that this is all rather peculiar," the man admitted, pushing his glasses up his nose. He slowed the car to a near stop at the foot of the bridge into the city. There were Crownsguard at the bridge, checking passports before letting anyone into the city proper.  

It was all rather....

Normal.

Surreally normal.

"Ignis, we gotta problem," Gladio said. "We don't have any papers."

Ignis adjusted his glasses again. "There should be official papers in the glovebox. Prompto, if you would?"

Prompto pulled his chair up and popped the button to the glovebox. A potion and several cds were shoved in haphazardly, in addition to a stack of napkins and even some long-forgotten salt packets. Prompto dug around for a moment before finally— "In the zipped bag, yes, that one. No, the zipped bag, Prompto. Please—" he managed to pull out the plastic bag, holding it toward Ignis. 

"Pray-tell, what am I supposed to do with that?" Ignis asked, and Noctis laughed at the pink blush that spread across Prompto's cheeks.

"Fine, fine! Gimme a sec. These have always been here?"

Ignis nodded. "None of you bothered to look in the glovebox? Ever?"

Prompto shook his head.

"There was that one time he tried to sneak a chocobo into the car, but he tried to use the trunk, remember?"

Noctis remembered that day so vividly, it could have been only yesterday. The soft kwehing, the sweat dripping down Prompto's hairline, the absolute guilt as Ignis finally pulled over the Regalia and Noctis just laughed as all the color drained out of Prompto's face and Gladio swore that if it crapped in the trunk Prompto would be the one cleaning it.

"Gods, please forget that happened! It was years ago! And she was so cute..." 

Even Ignis cracked a smile before tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

"You know, they probably should know who we are, right?"

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't be prepared."

Of course Ignis was always prepared. Far more prepared than Noctis was for any of this. Especially the thought about seeing his father...

He had thought about it for.... a long time. He wondered what it would be like to talk with his father again, to see him. What would they say? What would they do?

The way they had left.... Noctis couldn't deny that it took him a long time in the Crystal to come to terms with what his father had done. The lies, the hiding, the false goodbye. He wondered what it would have been like to know that his future was death, and he would give it willingly.

He wished, even now, that his father had told him. It didn't make sense in denying him the information, not if his father believed in him.

He had believed in him... right? 

Of course, it would have made perfect sense if he hadn't believed in Noctis, if he thought his son would have run from the Prophecy, from his destiny.

But he hadn't run. He was scared, yes, but he had never turned tail. He had feared the ring, feared the future, feared the loneliness, but he had accepted it, in the end. He had accepted even before the end, as a teenager scared and alone. It had taken time to learn, to grow, but he had done it. In his bedroom, curled up in a ball and praying to gods that didn't seem to listen, he came to terms with it. 

But his father hadn't been there to witness that.

He had seen the ascension, though...

He had been the one to push in the sword. 

There was a phantom pain somewhere that Noctis didn't know or understand, but he focused on that feeling, trying to push it down, to hide it again. He wanted to see his father. He wanted to see the man, despite what had happened.

He wanted to know.

And so, once they got through the security with only a low bow and a promise that "King Regis would like to see you, Your Highness," to usher them through, it was one inch closer to his father. One inch closer to the Citadel.

It was hard to deny the panic that finally set itself deep inside Noctis's stomach, and he tried to not stare at the city as it passed by his window. Everything was so familiar and yet.... there was something to it, the glimmer of the magical Wall that felt nothing as it should have, that made Noctis feel like everything was wrong and yet everything was right.

Gladio, thankfully, only grabbed his hand, threading their fingers together.

"You think.... You think my dad's going to be there, too?" Gladio questioned, letting his nail trace along the calluses across Noctis's palms. 

"Wouldn't make sense for him to not be there." 

"And... your mom? My mom?"

It wasn't something they had talked about much growing up, with how awkward the entire thing was. After Noctis's mother died, and then when Gladio's mother died in childbirth with Iris, it was clear that something had formed between their fathers. Something that mostly was snickered about at dinners and ignored in favor of their own animosity to one another. One day that grew into something quite different, and then it was fear. Not fear that their fathers would tell them to stop, but that they would drive a wedge between the men.

And Noctis loved his father, just as Gladio loved his. 

They wanted them to be happy.

Even if it meant they never once even gave the vaguest of notions that there was something going on between Noctis and Gladio.

But that was when they were alive and their wives were dead. Now they were in the Beyond, and.... Shit. 

Gods, what a mess.

"Uh... Ignis..."

Prompto's voice was softer than it should have been for such a bright ball of sunshine.

"She's still well. She misses you terribly, Dear Heart."

Noctis felt warmth on his face. Of course, Prompto's mom...

"But your dad. He should be here." Noctis pulled Gladio's hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against the skin. "And Iggy..."

"Yes. My parents, as well."

Ignis's parents had died so long ago, before he had come to the Citadel when he was five. Noctis knew that other than the ring Ignis kept hidden in his wallet and the small picture tucked next to it, there was nothing else of the Scientia family to remember. Noctis could remember the first time Ignis talked about them, about how he could barely remember their faces. Instead, he could see only Noctis's face, then Prompto and Gladio's. They were his family, now. 

"Your uncle will be here, too."

Ignis nodded. "Yes, he will."

After Insomnia, it had taken months to find out who had died. Ignis hadn't held out hope that his uncle had survived the attack, and so he wasn't surprised when the Niflheim empire listed him as deceased. 

It was hard to think about them all, to think about the time between them and the ways they had all changed. They were not the same men entering the city as when they left, and Noctis wasn't sure it that was a good or bad thing. Perhaps it was neither, and instead it simply was what it was, and that was that.

The drive through the heart of Lucis was blissfully uneventful, though it pained Noctis to see the reminders of his youth, the quick flashes of the World of Ruin distorting the fantasy from reality. He could remember the streets filled with death, the cloying sweetness of daemons and long-ago decomposed flesh.

He wondered if, where Ignis had them plant a garden for Lady Lunafreya, if it still stank of ash and despair.

_No, don't think like that._

No. Ignis would have made it beautiful, it would have been perfect. And however many years was between them, it didn't matter.

Ignis had come back. They all had come back. 

When the buildings became more congested and the streets filled with stragglers walking through the crosswalk even after the cactuar disappeared from the streetlight (Ignis probably could have gotten away with hitting a few pedestrians just because they couldn't die) Noctis finally allowed the nerves to get the better of him.

"What if.... what if it's not my dad?"

"Don't be stupid, Noctis. C'mon. You know it'll be him."

But there was that constant fear, that niggling sensation that maybe this was all in his head and that somewhere, somehow, Ardyn was behind him laughing as he guided his puppet from place to place. 

But it felt real, it really did.

"Do you think.... you think _he's_ here?"  

There was enough weight in his words that no one questioned Noctis. 

"He's probably wise enough to not come into the afterlife to pick fights with dead men," Ignis remarked. "There should be far more things he must be interested in. Something that will keep him occupied."

But there was a chance, there was always a chance, that Ardyn was in the city waiting for them.

"Hey, he's gone. Okay? He's dead. He won't be coming back. We won't let him."

Gladio's words were like a soothing balm against burned skin.

It hadn't been Ardyn who Noctis feared. Ardyn had ended his life as he had lived it, in a flourish and clash of colors and sounds, hoping that time would not forget him.

Noctis never asked what they had done after Ardyn's death. Had they memorialized him? The man who had given all for the Crystal, only to have it turn on him? The King of Kings, the one that had failed where Noctis had succeeded. 

He should have asked Ignis, but now.... it didn't seem right. It didn't seem fair. Not when all of their suffering had been tied so intrinsically to the man.

The car finally managed to get to the main road in front of the Citadel, and it seemed as though someone had called and warned the Crownsguard ahead of time for their arrival. There were no tourists milling about and, Noctis realized, that there was a small group of people at the top of the set of stairs.  

It was surreal. All of the faces looking down at them, inspecting them…

And Noctis felt his breath hitch in his throat as his father began walking down the stairs, though it was not the father Noctis remembered from this same scene so long ago. He was young again, as he was in all the old photo albums Noctis would look through when his father was busy with the council. His beard was dark, his eyes bright, his knee strong and his gait unbroken by pain.

And she was there, her face the same as it always was in his memory. She had died when he was so little that Noctis couldn't remember what she looked like on his own. But she was the same as her wedding portrait, the one that he hung on his wall next to his bed, the one he stared at every night before going to bed. Her long, dark hair sparkled like the night sky. And, Noctis knew, he had her eyes.

"Mom?" 

He knew she couldn't hear him, that they were too far away, but it was like a light, and Noctis was drawn towards it. 

His fingers trembled as he opened the door and wrestled with the seatbelt, seeing that Gladio, Prompto, and even Ignis were doing the same.

Noctis nearly tripped on the stairs as his feet made their way up, soles scraping against the concrete. He remembered the last time his feet went up these stairs, how dark it had been, how hopeless.  

But now, bathed in the light of the sun with Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis at his side... 

 He could do this. 

They all could do this. 

Noctis allowed himself to fall into his parents' arms, and he clung to them as he hadn't for so many years.

"Welcome home, Noctis."


	4. Chapter 4

There were so many questions that Noctis wanted to ask his father, so many unanswered questions that he had spent so much time wondering but never being able to voice out loud. There were questions about his fate, about the prophecy about Insomnia, about what had happened all those long, long years ago. 

He wanted to ask them but now that he was in his father’s arms, the words couldn’t form. His throat felt closed off, as though his body and his heart knew more than what his brain was telling him. 

And his mother—she was beautiful. She was so beautiful, so happy, and feeling himself fall into her arms was what he had been missing all of those years. He had yearned for the touch of his mother in a way that he had never quite realized until he was surrounded by it. How could he ever have lived without it? 

Part of Noctis, he realized, was always yearning for the touch of his mother, the comfort that she could only give. It was in everything she did, in everything she touched. It was as if he was made for her arms.

And his father… 

“I missed you,” Noctis breathed into his father’s neck, feeling the stubble of his cheek brush against his forehead. 

“And I you, my son. You did well. You did so well.”

Noctis closed his eyes, listening to the comforting words as his mother stroked her fingers through his hair and the way his father rubbed circles into his back, against the spot that was knotted with scars from the Marilith attack.

Noctis wasn’t sure how long he stood on the steps with his mother and father, only that it could have been a hundred years and still would have not been enough. They allowed him to stay there as long as he wanted, only pulling back once Noctis had loosened his death grip on them, letting his head peek out to look at Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto.

For Prompto, it was an elderly woman Noctis had met only a handful of times and a man—a rather rugged-looking man with dark skin that had been kissed by the sun and strong arms, someone that Noctis had never met but had seen in pictures. Noctis could remember the picture of Prompto’s mother and father on the mantelpiece in Prompto’s family house. Noctis didn’t even know his name, but he knew that Prompto had loved him deeply and had never really finished mourning for the man he called his father.

That picture…. Noctis remembered asking about it, and he could remember the wistful way Prompto’s eyes had glazed over as he talked about it. It was his father’s birthday, though Noctis had thought it funny that a grown man’s birthday party included chocobo hats and a themed cake. But Prompto had only smiled and told him that birthdays were always a big deal in their family, that Prompto always got to have a vote in what the theme was, and that his father always agreed with him. 

He had died a little after that picture, Noctis knew. Prompto’s father had worked in construction for the Crown, and that his last job had involved him working on a pylon atop of the Wall, something that helped the magic of the Crystal move around the perimeter to create the barrier. Prompto told him that something had gone wrong and his father must have fallen—Prompto was only six, and he had never really asked his mother about it. All he had known was that the government sent him and his mother a check every month, most of which paid for Prompto’s schooling.

Prompto had asked him to not look, and Noctis had agreed. It was the last time they talked about Prompto’s father. 

But now… 

Noctis smiled at the scene of Prompto folding into his father’s arms, knowing that the shaking would subside soon enough. His grandmother stood beside them, waiting for her own turn.

Ignis was on the other side, and when Noctis looked toward his oldest friend, all he could see was a tuft of Ignis’s hair sticking out between a young couple and another man with silvering hair. 

The woman looked Tenebraen—it was in her long, flowing blonde hair and her pale green eyes. She looked dainty, her arms almost unable to wrap all the way around Ignis’s body, but she had locked her pinkies together so that she could pull her child closer. Her eyes were open as wide as possible as she stared up into the skies, almost as if she was waiting for something that Noctis could not see.

His father…. his father looked so much like Ignis that for a moment it was hard to look at him. His hair was much darker, much more Lucian, and his nose was smaller, but it was almost uncanny. It was his jaw, his smile—it was the glasses that were the same as Ignis’s. 

The other man Noctis knew as Ignis’s uncle, Pontus. Noctis had known the man, had spent many hours with him as a child. This was the same man who had taught Ignis and him how to do their multiplication tables and how to paint, though Noctis had always been envious of how talented the man had been with a paintbrush. He could remember long hours in the kitchen, his feet barely scraping the floor from his chair as Pontus taught Ignis how to cook. He had tried to teach Noctis, who had been eager but lacking in basic self-control as to not empty the entire shaker of salt into the pot.

Gladio though…

“Hush, Gladio. Baby, hush. Shhhh. I’m right here.”

Noctis pulled from his father and mother’s arms as he turned around to look at the place where Gladio and his parents were standing—or, at least, where Gladio and his parents _should_ have been standing.

“Noctis,” his mother whispered as she reached down to grab his hand. 

Noctis knew what she meant just from her touch. This wasn’t for him. No matter how much he wanted to go over and pick up Gladio from the ground where he had sunk to his knees, bowed low with his head buried in his mother’s dress, this wasn't his place, wasn't his fight. The sounds that echoed against the pavement sent a physical pain shooting through Noctis’s hear as he watched Gladio’s mother rub her hand against the back of Gladio’s neck, but he couldn't go.

Clarus… Clarus kneeled next to her, defeated.

Gladio had been born for a purpose, Noctis knew. He had time to think about it, to think about how Gladio was born at the same time his own father and mother had gotten married, how he had begun training before Noctis could even walk. He knew that he had sworn his vow as Shield the day that the Crystal had chosen Noctis as the King of Kings. He knew that less than a year later Iris was born and his mother had died.

He knew why Gladio had resented his very existence when they were children, because he had known that Gladio worshipped the ground his mother had walked on, had loved her so deeply and fiercely that having lost her had taken something from Gladio that could never be given back. He had moved that love to Iris—because she had been a piece of his mother that he could protect—but he had never forgotten his mother.

It had taken time for the wound to heal, for Gladio to look at Noctis without thinking that it was partially Noctis to blame for his mother bleeding out on her birthing bed, giving the Crown another Shield to protect the Chosen King. But, more importantly, it had taken Gladio time to be able to look at his own reflection in the mirror.

Noctis had remembered that keenly when Altissia had happened, when Noctis had fallen to pieces and the past had bubbled back up to the surface. He had failed Gladio then. It was like a still-healing wound that had become infected, and the only thing any of them could do was to cut it back open to remove the decay and rot. 

It had taken ten years for that reopened wound to heal itself, for the scar tissue to fade from pink to silver and then to almost nothing at all. 

But there was a difference between then and now, because the almost impossible wound would never open again. This was the last of the infection being removed, the last of the anger and regret and remorse being flushed out, and now it was finally time to heal. She was here in the Beyond, and there would be time to come to terms. They could have all the time in the world. 

 

* * *

 

Dinner in the Citadel was like waking up from a long dream. 

The china, the flowers, the crystal glasses were all the same. It was the same table that had been passed on from generation to generation over hundreds of years, and the same foods that Noctis had seen all of his life. The faces of the servers were the same, all smiling as they made sure to place an acceptable number of vegetables onto his plate. 

The only difference, Noctis knew, was that they were all much closer together, that instead of sitting on opposite sides of the table they were elbow to elbow, as close at they could get without sitting on top of one another. 

It felt… good.

“We knew you arrived a while ago, but…” Regis looked from Noctis to Aulea, then back to Noctis.

“We felt it best not to rush you. We knew you would come when you were ready.” 

“I’m sorry… just.” Noctis looked down the table to Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio. “I just wasn’t whole yet.” 

Aulea reached over to slip a piece of hair behind Noctis’s ear. “You have nothing to apologize for, my dear.” 

Noctis nodded his head and picked up his fork again, pushing the broccoli on his plate to the side, seeing his father and mother share a look between them. He knew it had nothing to do with his dinner plate 

Considering that life in the Beyond was very much like life before, it was still impossible for Noctis to eat vegetables. Thankfully, his diet no longer mattered, as hunger and nutrition didn’t matter much to a soul. So many years of living off of meat, junk food, and Cup Noodles had taught him as much.

“So… is there anything you would like to tell us, Noct?” Regis asked as he eyed the others at the table. 

Noctis shrugged and put down his fork. There were a lot of things Noctis wanted to tell his father, more things he wanted to ask the man, but Noctis knew where this was going. This was an awkward conversation that Noctis thought he had avoided, considering the fact that he was technically dead.

“I dunno. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Regis clucked his tongue and returned to his steak, while Aulea pat Noctis on the hand before sending a look to one of the servers. 

“I think you’d rather have this, hm?” Aulea asked as Noctis’s plate was removed, a chocolate cake being presented instead. “It was your favorite when you were little.”

Noctis gave his mother a small smile, though eating anything at all, even cake, seemed like it would be a chore at that moment. “Thanks, mom.”

Noctis listened into the murmuring from the others at the table. Gladio sat with his head pressed against his mother’s shoulder as he talked to his father. Prompto was flipping through his camera, showing pictures to his father. Ignis had pulled out his small relief booklet and was showing it to Pontus as his parents sat next to one another, watching with fondness and pride. There was little eating, which made Noctis feel less awkward about the entire situation. 

“There are many things I want to speak with you about, Noctis. Just… let me know where you want to begin.”

“Um…. where’s… where’s Luna?”

Regis nodded his head as if he were waiting for this exact question. “Lady Lunafreya returned to Tenebrae, though she is quite the free spirit as of late. She enjoys traveling, as she was never granted the opportunity in her youth.”

Noctis frowned for a moment before letting out a breath and nodding his head. Luna had been locked away in her gilded cage, only allowed to go where the Empire allowed her. It was good that she was finally free, finally able to do whatever she wished. 

“She said that she has seen you on her travels, though she did not approach. She thought it best that you came to her when you were ready.” 

“She—she saw me?”

“Lady Lunafreya goes where she pleases, though how she does so I have never had the courage to ask.” 

Noctis closed his eyes, trying to think of those who he had seen in the small towns, the people at Wiz’s, the people who had driven by who Noctis hadn’t even spared a second glance. Had he seen her blonde hair in the sunlight and the wind? Had he traced over her face with barely a thought?

“Do not hold it against her, Noctis. She harbors terrible guilt in her heart in regards to what transpired. She has feared this moment almost as much as I have.”

Gladio was not the only one with open wounds.

“Can…. can we talk?” 

“Would you like to do it here? Or…” Despite the fact that his father’s body could not be more than thirty years old, he looked as if he had aged twenty years. 

“I think maybe just us…”

Regis nodded and removed the napkin from his lap, pressing it against his mouth before putting it on the table. He stood slowly, back hunched ever so slightly under the weight of his own words. “Let us take a walk in the gardens.”

Noctis nodded and spared his mother a brief glance before standing. “We’ll be back soon.”

“Take all the time you need.”

He didn't want to part from his mother, but it was better to talk with his father now. The weight on his chest, the phantom pain between his ribs where he had felt the Sword of the Father make its way through his spine, made it almost impossible to walk, impossible to move, impossible to breathe.

But he did it. 

The walk to the gardens was silent, and Noctis focused on the sound of his father’s shoes clinking against the marble below. There was no gait, no awkward stilt to his father’s footsteps. On Eos, how long had he been in pain? How long had the act of walking left his father with hard breathing and groaning joints?

The gardens seemed different. There were still the trees and the blossoms, but there were colors in the garden—pinks and oranges and even bright purples and blues—that looked different from before. 

“Your mother used to garden. She loved bright colors. Said they gave the garden charm, though the gardeners would have preferred to keep them white or red.” Regis reached up to touch a hydrangea hanging from a long branch. The color reminded Noctis of Sylleblossoms.

“I think she was right.”

Regis smiled. “I think so, too. I never quite realized how much I missed them until after they were gone. Death gives us perspective, Noctis.” Regis let go of the hydrangea, a few petals drifting down toward the grass below. “Come, Noctis. Walk with me.”

They walked through the garden, following a path Noctis knew like the back of his hand

“Noctis… I remember.”

Noctis stopped in the middle of the walkway. His father stopped to, turning around to look at him. 

“I, uh, I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t,” Noctis admitted. 

“I took your life, Noctis. I killed you with my own hands.”

Noctis turned away. “You did what I asked you to. You did what you needed to.”

“I would have done anything for you to have lived, for you to have been a normal boy. I didn't want you to be raised in fear. I wanted you to be happy, to be free of the burdens I bore.” 

“I watched you wither away, thinking that the same would happen to me, dad. I watched you die a little every day to keep us safe. After the accident, after everything… you changed.” Noctis looked back to his father. “You didn't tell me about the prophecy, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it. Every time you looked at me, every time you talked to me—it took me a long time to realize that you were mourning for me my entire life.”

Regis’s frown deepened. “I was your father, Noctis. It was my duty to keep you safe, and no matter what I did could not do that. I tried everything I could—I tried to bargain, to barter, to beg and plead. I offered myself to the Crystal, offered to do anything they wanted to keep you safe. I was your father; it was my duty to keep you safe, and I couldn’t do that. I failed you every day of your life.”

“Dad—“

“I tried. I wasn’t perfect, Noctis, and I know that. If I could go back and change things, I would. But I just… I just wanted you to be happy, to be safe.” 

“Did you know that you…”

Regis nodded. “The Crystal and Bahamut showed me when you were a child. I… I feared it, Noctis. I watched my hands, watched how they took your life, and every time I had you in my arms I remembered it.”

The breeze through the gardens made Noctis shiver despite the sunshine. 

“I should have been a better father to you. I should have held you more, should have tucked you into bed at night. But instead I spent my time trying to undo what could not be undone. And then… I tried to give you a taste of normalcy.” 

“Dad… you did what you could.” Noctis wanted to scream, wanted to yell and cry and curse the Gods for having cursed them with the prophecy. But right now… All he wanted was to hug his father.

He opened his arms and wrapped them around his father’s shaking shoulders. “It’s okay.”

“No, Noctis. I am sorry. I am sorry for everything that has occurred… for what words can not explain. I… I am so sorry, my son.”

“Yeah. Me too, dad. Me too.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
